


Switching It Up

by orphan_account



Series: Ownership [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Master/Servant, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7437872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford doesn't want to be on top for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switching It Up

 

It all started with a dream. There was the sensation of touch, the edge of familiarity in the walls surrounding them but all Stanford could really focus on was the person next to him. A hearty chuckle, a face so ingrained in his memories to be nigh unforgettable, a comfortable body to rest on: Stanley.

It started innocently. Two brothers on a bed somewhere inside a room, but if it was the room they used to inhabit back in New Jersey or the more spacious one in Gravity Falls, Stanford can’t recall. All he knows is that they’re on a bed and somehow, Stanford ends up in his brother’s lap. Stanley’s hugging him from behind of course and Stanford’s just sitting there, in Stanley’s lap. It’s peaceful. Then he moves just the tiniest bit and then there’s something digging in his butt. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on from there.

Then Stanley’s kissing down his neck and Stanley’s hand comes to rest on his leg and Stanford, Stanford has a sudden urge to place his hand over Stanley’s so he does, and all he can think of is how bigger, how thicker Stanley’s hands is compared to his. And eventually, in what feels like seconds and hours - as such is the fluidity of dreams - Stanford finds himself wanting to be under his brother.

In a blurry flash he is, Stanley is above him and he’s talking in that voice - slightly awed and completely enamored - saying things like, “You look so good like this Sixer,” and “you always were a moaner weren’t you,” and “ _Fuck, I can’t keep my hands off you,_ ” and Stanford feels a building pleasure as Stanley pounds into him, hips thrusting, muscles flexing and-

And that’s how it starts. Stanford wakes up with morning wood and an insatiable lust waiting to be fed and then Stanley’s knocking on the door saying breakfast is prepared.

“I’ll be there in a few!” Stanford states as his hands drift towards his still erect cock. He knows logically that if he were to call Stanley in to help him with his little problem, Stanley would comply easy enough but...there was something telling him to wait on this. It isn’t until he hears Stanley’s feet moving away from the door that he moves towards his bathroom. A quick cold shower should help with his erection.

In the shower, the frigid shower quickly turns into a steaming one. Stanford lets the steam quicken his already superb mind and find a solution to his predicament. The easy answer would be to let Stanley fuck him. Nice and hard and slow and deep for as long as he feels the urge. Yet, ever since he’s reconnected with Stanley and this master servant relationship popped up, Stanford has yet to bottom. At the start Stanford had wanted the relationship on his terms and even now he wanted to keep it in his terms. Wanted to be in charge at all times. If he slipped up now...Not to mention the fact that Stanford hadn’t bottomed since he was a teen when Stanley was above him, murmuring sweet words in his ears and fucking him until he was good and spent, legs sore the next morning, hickeys on his neck that he had to cover up-

Stanford felt his dick twitch. With a resigned sigh he turned the knob until icy spatters of water fell upon his naked skin creating goosebumps and killing his rising arousal.

He didn’t do anything that day, didn’t do anything for five days because of how busy he was but on the sixth day he made sure Stanley wouldn’t be too bogged down by chores for an entire week. Then, on the two days after that Stanford sent Stanley on a nuts and bolts hunt: going from store to store for various mechanical parts that Stanford knew he would struggle with. While he was out - because he knew Stanley kept some and he was frankly way too nervous to go to a sex shop - Stanford snuck into Stanley’s room and borrowed some...necessary preparatory devices.

Stanford stared at the dildo he snuck out, the smallest he could find but still a bit bigger than what he used as a teen for prep (aka his fingers). Stanford took deep breaths as he tried not to let his blush overwhelm him. This was necessary, he told himself, if he wanted Stanley to fuck him wildly and still have an element of surprise he would have to prepare himself after years of anal sex inactivity.

As he sat up in bed, legs spread and dildo fully lubed, inching it’s way inside him, all Stanford could think of was how he couldn’t wait until Stanley was serving his master once more.

Monday comes around and he regrets not giving Stanley the full week “off” because he finds that he really wants to have sex with Stanley. Like,now. But what kind of Master would he be if he were so eager to get fucked by his own servant? An honest one, probably, but not a very dominant one. So he sits in his office and waits, staring at a Ford Industries computer that has a graph on it - and that’s all he registers about it- when Stanley brings him lunch, crustless finger sandwiches, a tall glass of iced water and a bag of chips because it’s Stanley, and that’s when Stanford can’t take it anymore.

“Stanley,” he calls out, voice even because he is still in control, “have you finished your work for today?”

Stanley looking delectable in his butler suit, double-breasted with gold trims and a red tie, says, “I finished sweeping the patio and doing the dishes but I haven’t dusted the house yet.”

“Good. That’s good.” Stanford says distractedly. The noon hour means Stanley has plenty of time to dust the rest of the house. “Have you eaten yet Stanley?”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet, sir.” Stanford corrects and just like that Stanley stands a little straighter and repeats, “Not yet, sir.”

“Stanley can you come here for a minute?”

“Yes, Master.” Stanford shivers and with sharp eyes, watches as Stanley makes his way over to him. He stops just out of reach by the edge of the desk but it’s too far. “Come closer.” Stanford barks and then Stanley is in reach. With firm hands Stanford guides Stanley to the gap between his legs and watches as Stanley’s crouch comes closer to his face. Perfect. “Stand still,” he orders as he uses his deft fingers to undo the buckle of Stanley’s belt.

Stanley, to his credit, stays absolutely still but his voice is wobbly as he whispers a breathless, “Sir?”

Unbuckle the belt. Unzip the zipper. Tug the pants lower and the boxers. Bingo.

Stanford’s seen Stanley’s dick many times as his master. He’s jerked it off, frotted with it, teased and squeezed it hard enough to stop orgasm but this would be the first time he sucked it. With no hesitation Stanford reaches for his brother’s flaccid penis and puts it in his mouth. He sucks and licks at the organ in his mouth, urging it to become erect, and maybe he came at it with a little too much eagerness because his drool is slowly pouring out of the corner of his mouth.

Despite not having given a blowjob in over a decade, Stanley seems to be satisfied with his efforts. “M-master,” he cries out and Stanford feels safe, knowing he’s still in charge. Stanford hums as his nose meets Stanley’s curly thatch of pubic hair and when he pulls off with a ‘pop’ he can see how Stanley was struggling with his hand on the corner of the desk and the other fist jammed into his mouth.

“None of that Stanley.” Stanford says as he jerks his brother to full erectness, “Put that fist out of your mouth and if you need to grab onto something don’t grab onto my desk.”

Stanley’s eyes roam the office, the back of Stanford chair too far away to properly grab, the lamp sitting on the desk too fragile, the wall too far away. Stanford, sensing his confusion, only says, “You can always grab onto me Stanley,” before diving in for another taste. Stanley had always been the thicker of the two of them and right now Stanford is in love with it: the musky two, the thick cock in his mouth giving his jaw a pleasurable ache, the heavy weight on his tongue. It doesn’t take long for the hairs on his head to pull slightly at as his scalp as Stanley fists his hair and it doesn’t take long for the dick in his mouth to slide against his tongue as Stanley’s hip thrust shallowly.

This. This is what Stanford’s been missing. Being used for pleasure. Bringing pleasure to someone else. Stanley’s gasping above him and Stanford’s hands on his ass bring him closer and all he wants is for Stanley to cum down his throat. So like a good Master he makes Stanley work for it. He stills his ministrations and looks at Stanley as intensely as he can without breaking his neck looking up.

“Master?” Stanley asks when the sucking stops. He looks beautiful, his gelled hair looking all mussed and face all flushed and Stanford can feel it as Stanley tries not to thrust to get some wet friction going but still thrusts that little bit anyway. “Master please move...I-I don’t think I can hold on for much…”

Except Stanford doesn’t move, just stares into Stanley’s brown eyes and soon Stanley’s moving, thrusting, taking another grip on Stanford’s hair and using him and it’s so wonderful that Stanford feels another warm resurgence of drool drip from his mouth.

Soon Stanley wails, “M-master, I’m- I’m gonna-” and his hips are moving that much faster and Stanford doesn’t want to wait so he starts bobbing his head up and down and then there’s something warm shooting down his throat and it may have been a long time since the last time Stanford gave a blow job but he still remembers how to swallow. When he pulls off Stanley’s penis with a final ‘pop’ his jaw is sore and his hair is no doubt a mess and his face is no doubt covered in drool but he’s content.

“Sorry Master,” Stanley says as he catches his breath above him, “for cumming in your throat without permission.”

“That’s alright Stanley.” Stanford leans back in his chair, gets a better view for the way Stanley seems just as wrecked as he feels. His voice is a little husky but that seems to be just the way Stanley likes it, “I was hoping for it.”

“Permission to speak freely sir?”

“Permission granted Stanley.”

And with that Stanley practically slumps over his chair, his flaccid penis still swinging freely and his pants near the end of his thighs, “What the fuck was that Sixer? Like, I’m not complaining but what the _fuck_.”

“What can I say,” Stanford smiles as he twists around to face Stanley from where he’s flopped on the back of his chair, leaning heavily on it and almost knocking them both over with his weight. He grabs his brother’s face and inches closer for a kiss, “I miss you being in charge.”

“So wait,” Stanley asks between kisses, “does this mean I get to play Master now?”

“Ha ha. No.” Stanford says shortly, “Now go clean yourself up and eat and dust the house. When you’re done I want you to come get me and we could go to my room for some more fun.”

Stanley laughs and it’s breathless and a little tired sounding so Stanford kisses him on the side of his smushed cheek and says, “You can take five if you need to get your thoughts together.”

“More like my legs together.” Stanley says and then his eyes are slipping close against the plush fabric of his chair. He turns to glance at the computer screen, still with that graph and then at the food he hasn’t quite eaten yet, the bag of chips not even open and the crustless sandwiches still there. The ice in the water has already melted but the glass is still cold to the touch. “Here,” Stanford offers as he brings the glass closer to Stanley. “Take a sip and eat with me.”

And so they eat lunch, Stanford wipes the drool off his face and Stanley sits on the corner of his very expensive and unique Ford Industries desk; not bothering to zip his pants up or buckle his belt because he’s Stanley and they divide food meant for one because the both of them are too lazy to go to the kitchen for Stanley’s lunch. Mid-way through Stanley pauses in eating his bag of chips and remarks, “Hey, I didn’t return the favor.”

“Oh, you’ll return the favor. Tonight.”

“Oooh don’t leave me in suspense. You have something planned don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Stanford replies. “But you aren’t hearing about it until you finish today’s chores.”

After lunch Stanley returns to work and Stanford, momentarily satisfied, gets enough work done to warrant him a self-congratulatory pat on the back and a tense few hours waiting for Stanley to finish it up. Except Stanley apparently is being a goddamn tease because Stanford knows for a fact that Stanley never cleans the whole house, only does the parts that he knows Stanford will go to on a regular basis and so therefore it shouldn’t take so long to dust the house but here Stanford is waiting with anticipation mounting up as the hours tick by.

When the sun is starting to set and the stars start to shine is when Stanley finally decides to knock on the door. Stanford yanks the door open and snaps, “What took you so long?”

Stanley, fist still raised for a knock, coughs and says, “Dinner is right on time.” in this confused little voice.

“Dinner?” Stanford asks right as his stomach grumbles. He forgot about dinner. He. Forgot. About. Dinner.

“Right.” Stanford says as he adjusts himself to a more respectable stance because wow this is embarrassing.

“Someone’s eager for tonight.” Stanley snickers as he leads the way back to the dining room. There’s a large dining table there that could seat about thirty people but Stanford takes the head of the table and as always Stanley sits to his immediate right. They eat food and Stanford tries to steer the conversation topic anywhere from his embarrassing eagerness when he answered the door but that’s all Stanley seems to want to talk about.

“You are really rearing for tonight aren’t you? I mean you practically snapped my head off-”

“Stanley.” Stanford says with that edge to his voice that instantly gets Stanley to shut up. Their plates have been empty for the past two minutes but Stanley’s been going on and on about this. Well, now it’s time. “Put our plates in the sink and then meet me at my room.”

Stanley must have been eager too because by the time Stanford made it to his room Stanley was already there, holding the door for him like a good servant. Stanford was more eager however because by the time Stanley closed the door behind him he was on the bed. Naked. He was on the bed naked. Stanley stood at the door, absolutely still, his eyes taking in the sight of his Master naked on the bed.

“Stanley come here.”

Just like before Stanley came near the end of the bed still he was too far away.“Yes Master?”

“Stanley your objective for tonight is to fuck me. Hard, soft, deep, fast, slow; just fuck me. I’ve already prepared myself thoroughly so get on with it.”

Stanley seemed like he couldn’t get out of his clothes fast enough. He hopped his way out of his fancy suit pants and jumped onto the bed and when he searched the drawers for lube he drenched two fingers in them and groaned when he fingered Stanford with no resistance. “You really prepared yourself well didn’t you Stanford?”

“Yes, that’s what I said and it’s Master,” He corrected as he dug his blunt nails into Stanley’s forearm. “Now hurry up.”

“Yes Master.” Stanley said as he lined his lubed cock with Stanford’s hole. He pushed in slowly and groaned as it went in smoothly. “So perfect Master. You’re so perfect.”

Usually, during sex, this would be the time Stanford would order Stanley to shut up or be quiet but now he seemed to busy trying to make himself quiet. One arm thrown over his eyes, Stanford already seemed to be shaking as Stanley slowly thrust in him.

“Please Master,” Stanley reached up to grab Stanford’s hands and hold them to his sides so his face was free. “Please Master look at me.”

When Stanford looked he was taken away by how handsome Stanley was. His sharp jaw, his naked torso, his eyes so full of love and lust and a hopeless sort of helplessness in his smile like he couldn’t get enough of Stanford even if he tried. Enamored. Stanford squeezed Stanley’s hands in his and then that’s when the magic really happened.

Stanley started picking up speed and with every thrust Stanford was jerked on the bed until sweat poured from his back and the bed sheets stuck to his body. As the room got darker Stanley’s passion seemed to burn brighter and soon Stanford was a gasping mess as the bed frame shook. And the words from Stanley’s mouth, absolutely maddening. Like chants all Stanford could make out was one word: Master.

 _“Do you like that Master?_ ” Kisses rained upon his skin from Stanley’s lips. His collarbone, his neck, his lips, all of it felt the downpour of Stanley’s love.

 _“Can’t keep my hands off of you Master._ ” Hands on his body, released from his hands, Stanley’s fingers roamed the underside of his arm, the crook of his elbow, the sides of his ribs, all to clamp around his hips and lift him as Stanley fucked him mercilessly.

 _“All for you Master.”_ Stanley whispered in his ear as he buried himself deep in his brother, his lover, his everything. His breath tickled Stanford’s ear and it was cool against his sweating neck. The familiarity of the sensations - of Stanley on top - even after a long time since seemed to drive Stanford to thrust his hips faster, meet Stanley in the middle-

“ _Is this what you want Master? Want to be fucked by your servant? I’ll make you dirty and I’ll clean you again. I’ll do anything for you Master.”_ Stanley promised as he drew back and used his hands to lift Stanford even higher until he was at the perfect angle to hit Stanford’s prostate head on. It wasn’t long after that they both came, Stanford scrabbling at Stanley’s back and Stanley wasting no thought into using Stanford’s body to milk out his own release. When the air was just emptying out of pants and heaving breaths did Stanford wack Stanley on the side, “I didn’t give you permission to come in me.”

“Yeah and you didn’t give me permission to come down your throat but I did it anyway and you seemed fine with it.” The mattress dipped next to him. Stanford turned to stare angrily at his brother even as one meaty arm curled around his waist.

“That’s not the point. The point is that’s going to be hard to clean out.”

“Yeah and you don’t hear me complaining. You come in my ass like every other week.”

...Stanley did have a point.

“Still, I am your Master and you should ask me next time.”

“‘Course Sixer,” Stanley yawned, “Whatever you say.”

“...I love you Stanley.”

There was silence. It was fully dark by now and Stanford was losing Stanley’s outline to it. From the darkness Stanley whispered, “I love you too Sixer.”


End file.
